


Nothing Wrong with Me

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Capture, Confinement, Dyslexic Mollymauk, Gen, I dont have dyslexia but I tried, I think I based it off of Percy Jackson a little bit, Lucian mention whole last chapter, i hope its ok and you enjoy, i'm so bad at tagging i'm sorry, it's basically a 5 times plus 1 thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Molly huffed, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. “I mean, it’s only because the words just won’t stay still and I know where they should go but they are just never there and its really frustrating because I should be able to know this, memory loss or not, and the fact that I can’t just means that-”“Hey, Molly,” Yasha soothed, placing her raised hand heavily on his shoulder. “You know by now; I will not judge. I will help you as well as I can but I cannot grantee we will get anywhere.” She paused. “But I will not give up until you can at least spell your name.”"There's nothing wrong with me," Molly muttered to his lap, sounding doubtful to his own ears."No," Yasha confirmed, gripping his shoulder tightly. "There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all and you have nothing to worry about because tonight I am going to help you as best I am able."The relief on Molly’s face was enough for Yasha to stand abruptly from her hammock and stroll over to her luggage to retrieve a quill, a jar of ink and a piece of parchment.(AKA every time the Mighty Nein found out Molly couldn't read and the one time they found out he could)





	Nothing Wrong with Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, Taliesin said on Talks Machina that Molly was "functionally illiterate" and I took that to mean that he was dyslexic. I don't have dyslexia or know much about it but I do know how it was portrayed in Percy Jackson so here you are, a horrible version of a dyslexic individual.
> 
> Honestly not sure how I feel about this one, was definitely better second time editing, but I tried my best.  
> Hope you enjoy x

Yasha knew as she knew everything, within the first month of her arrival at the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival or Curiosities. When Mollymauk tentatively walked into their shared tent and shyly asked if she could help him spell his name, she knew better than to ask but he felt the need to clarify anyway.

“It’s only because I had to sign that court document today, for the Halfling with the tiny hat? I nearly got us kicked out of the town because I couldn’t sign my name to state that I had legal proof to be here and I don’t actually know how to spell ‘Mollymauk Tealeaf’. I mean, it doesn’t matter, I was hardly able to speak until Gustav taught me so it’s not so unusual that I can’t-”

Cutting him off with a hand raised, Yasha tried to give a reassuring smile. It must have worked because soon Molly was tiredly smiling back. “I do not mind, Molly.” She told him. “I don’t know how good of a teacher I am but I will try.”

Molly huffed, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. “I mean, it’s only because the words just won’t stay still and I know where they should go but they are just never there and its really frustrating because I should be able to know this, memory loss or not, and the fact that I can’t just means that-”

“Hey, Molly,” Yasha soothed, placing her raised hand heavily on his shoulder. “You know by now; I will not judge. I will help you as well as I can but I cannot grantee we will get anywhere.” She paused. “But I will not give up until you can at least spell your name.”

"There's nothing wrong with me," Molly muttered to his lap, sounding doubtful to his own ears. 

"No," Yasha confirmed, gripping his shoulder tightly. "There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all and you have nothing to worry about because tonight I am going to help you as best I am able."

The relief on Molly’s face was enough for Yasha to stand abruptly from her hammock and stroll over to her luggage to retrieve a quill, a jar of ink and a piece of parchment. She sat down on the floor, Molly following, and she laid the parchment out, dipped the quill in the ink, wrote his name at the top. “Copy that.” She said as she handed him both the parchment and the black feathered quill.

His writing was shaky, too-big or too-small, letters almost looked more like scribbles and Yasha was convinced that this was the first time he had ever held a quill.

After the 50th time the words were repeated, Yasha asked him to read them out to her. “Mollymauk Tealeaf.” He recited without reading the words and as if it were obvious.

Yasha’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know?”

“Dear, that’s what I came in here asking to learn in the first place.” He sounded exasperated, had the same look on his face when he had to explain a fortune to a small child, or a relatively slow adult. “Really, Yasha, I would like to think, although I may be wrong though I highly doubt it, that I would remember what I came in here for.”

Taking the quill from Molly’s hands, Yasha flipped the page over and wrote her own name. “What about this?” She asked.

Molly blinked, staring at the word like he had just been presented with his own execution sentence. “I don’t know.” He muttered eventually, eyes glaring hatefully at the parchment he once looked at with pride.

Yasha wrote out the names of the other members of the circus and pointed to them each in turn. “Gustav, Ornna, Toya, Mona, Yuli, Kylre, Bosun, Desmond.” She handed the quill back to Molly. “Copy them.”

By the end of the week, Molly did know not only how to write his own name, but the names of his family, even if the letters jumped and ran around the page to avoid his eyes and the tip of his quill, but they came out in thickly blotted black ink on thin parchment, and that was enough for Mollymauk.

* * *

They were riding through the dusty dirt roads of by the mountains when the first sign appeared, old splintering wood and rough peeling paint that littered red and black on the earth below it and Molly was squinting up at it through the glare of the sun when Fjord rode up on his horse to join Molly on his own. “What does that say?” The tiefling asked, glancing at Fjord.

For his credit, Fjord tried to mask his confused look into an emotionless emotion. “The… sign?” He asked hesitantly as he followed Molly’s gaze, almost as though he was afraid of getting the answer wrong.

Sighing, Molly rolled his eyes. “Yes, the sign. That one, right there above us, what does it say? I can’t read it for the life of me.”

Blinking, Fjord looked between the sign and Molly. “Kamordah,” he said slowly, as though it were obvious. “We’ve just arrived in Kamordah, Molly. Are you alright?” There was real concern in Fjord’s voice and Molly wished Yasha were here so he could leave the half-orc at the head of the party and trot over to her in the rear.

“I’m fine Fjord, let’s just find a bloody tavern. I need a drink and a nap. Maybe some food too, if they have it, but I’m not gonna get my hopes up and then be disappointed.” Hoping to drop the previous conversation, Molly changed the subject and stayed silent, but Fjord was having none of that.

“Haven’t you ever been to Kamordah?” He asked, looking out towards the mountains in the distance. “Not with the circus?”

“No, I can’t say we ever came this way.” Molly admitted, silently wondering if it would be obvious if he spurred his horse on faster. “But honestly, I never really payed attention to names of places. Never really mattered.”

Fjord looked away, hiding his expression from Molly and in the silence, Molly took that as an opportunity to spur his steed towards the closet tavern.

Later that night, Molly’s head was comfortably clouded by the soft, familiar haze of cheap tap ale and the faint dizzying buzz of sleep deprivation brought on by stress, but the quiet knock at the door was enough to wake Molly up to shout a “come in!” to the half-orc he knew the knock belonged to.

Shyly poking his head in followed by the rest of his body, Fjord padded towards his end of the room, closing the widow Molly had opened and closed the blinds before he sat down on his own bed, facing his roommate. “Molly?” Fjord asked and Molly hummed in recognition. “I want to ask you something but I don’t want you to feel like you have to answer, because you really don’t but I was just curious-”

“You’re rambling Fjord.” Molly interrupted. “Ask your god's damned question. If I really don’t want to answer it, I’ll just ignore you so unless there are any spells involved then I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Instead of pointing out the hypocrisy of that statement, Fjord looked down at his fingers currently twirling the length of red rope between them before the words left him in a blurted rush like a tide breaking through a dam. “Can you read?” He almost regretted the words as soon as he said them if it had not been for the considering look Molly had on his face, the way he seemed to muse the words over in his head and come to a stable conclusion.

“I mean, I suppose not.” Molly pondered. “I know what letters look like and I know the alphabet. I know mostly what letters go into what, but it’s more the letters never seem to want to stay still on the page.”

“What do you mean?” Fjord asked, confused. “So you can’t read?” 

"There's nothing wrong with me if that's what you're thinking," Molly said quickly "It's just that the words don't correlate with what I'm seeing. There's nothing wrong with it, or me."

Suprised, Fjord blinked at the sudden outburst, hearing the disbelief in Molly's own voice as he spoke. Fjord realised that Molly had probably tried to convince himself of those very same words for countless hours yet still didn't totally believe them. "I know there's not Molly, I know that. I just wanted to get a better understanding of what's happening." Fjord said gently, trying to console his friend. "I won't force you to answer anything you don't want to."

"Of course you can't," Molly murmured, sudden outburst apparently forgotten in a drunken haze. "Nobody can force me to do anything."

Taking this as a sign to continue, Fjord asked again. "You really can't read?"

“Yes, but it’s not because I don’t know how to.” Molly sighed, sitting up on one arm. “Honestly, this was so much easier explaining it to Yasha. The words I look at are never the same, and even looking at my own name, the letters that should be there are backwards or in the wrong places.”

Fjord mulled this over for a moment before he nodded. “I think I understand.” He said. “It’s like the letters don’t cooperate with your eyes. I mean, I don’t know how that would happen but I think I understand.”

“Good.” Molly yawned, flopping back down and turning his back to Fjord, curling the blankets around himself. “Because I’m tired and drunk and don’t want to sacrifice my precious sleep for stupid conversations about _words_ of all bloody things.”

And if Fjord read out loud every meal on the menu they were handed the next morning so Molly had a chance to order without asking Jester what she was getting, neither mentioned it.

* * *

 Sitting at a dirty round bar table, shuffling his cards between his fingers in a talented display of dexterity and practice, he watched Caleb flick though page after page of arcane scribbles that danced around the parchment like the wizards own _Dancing Lights_ and Molly was having a hard time discerning if the words moved because of some mystical enchantment or just because of Molly’s own eyes.

“What are you reading Mr Caleb?” Molly asked as he placed his cards down on the table and instead placing his chin on his interlaced fingers. He didn’t actually care but he was bored and just wanted conversation.

“I am reading a very tiresome book that you would not enjoy,” Caleb said absently as he turned another page. “It is very hard to, uh, absorb so if I could have silence that would be very helpful,  _freund_."

Molly pouted, knowing full well Caleb couldn’t see him, and reached forward to flick one of the flowers in Caleb’s dirty red hair, making the wizard jump and reach up to make sure the pretty yellow bud Nott had placed there earlier was still in place. “Come on Caleb, I’m bored. Entertain me.” Molly purred, tail flicking out behind him and making a soft whipping sound through the ale and puke scented air.

“Why don’t you go tell fortunes and stories to the lovely couple over on that table over there?” Caleb suggested without looking up and indeed, there was a Halfling and a dwarf giggling and holding hands on the table across from them. But Molly wasn’t interested in romance, not today.

“Too far away,” Molly moaned as his tail landed heavily on the inside spine of Caleb’s book. “Read to me, Caleb.”

With a sigh that sounded like he had suffered a thousand pains, Caleb reached into his bag and dropped a rather thin looking book in front of Molly. “Here, read this and be quiet, please.”

Molly stared at the book blinking, opened the pages and flicked through them faster than even Caleb was, admiring the pictures and the crisp air on his face when he turned a page particularly fast. He was just considering whether he should start making shapes out of the folded pages when he caught Caleb staring at him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?” Caleb’s brow was furred and he was glaring at Molly’s hands like they had personally offended him. “You do know that it is impossible to read that quickly, _ja_?”

“Fjord didn’t tell you?” Part of Molly admired Fjords ability to keep a drunken secret, the other half slightly annoyed that he had to retell and explain it again, maybe many more times.

“Tell me what?” Caleb frowned as he turned to Molly, closing the book. This wasn’t the kind of attention he had wanted. “Is there something going on, Mollymauk?”

Sighing and cursing the gods for everything under the sun, he turned to Caleb. “I can’t read.” He said it quickly and without feeling, continuing on before the wizard could comprehend the words. “I haven’t been able to for as long as I can remember and there is nothing I can do about it because the letters won’t sit still on the page.”

Caleb’s face was a mask of shock, disbelief and horror. “Can’t read…” he muttered, staring at both the books now lying closed on the table. The emotions on Caleb’s face faded and was replaced with something closer to determination as he pulled out a spare piece of parchment, a quill, some ink, and a book written in common (so alike what Yasha had done so long ago) and spread them all out on the table. “Then I shall teach you.”

Before he could ruin the expensive parchment he only had a few pages left of and waste the half-empty bottle of ink for a lost cause, Molly reached out and clamped Caleb’s pale grimy hands between his scarred purple ones. “Caleb, dear, do not waste your time,” Molly says gently and enjoys the way Caleb’s nose wrinkles and turns upwards. “I cannot read and I probably never will and it is not because I have never learned or do not have the care to but because the words are not the right way to my eyes as they are to yours. So please, don’t bother.”

“But, why not?” Caleb objected and Molly would normally enjoy Caleb turning into a whiny child if it had not removed the sweet look of powerful determination that Molly has only just now realized looks wonderful on the wizard. “Why must your life be so much convoluted than ours that even the simple pleasure of reading is taken and soured for you?”

“Because,” Molly began, relishing in the rare eye contact and the warmth in Caleb’s hands in his, not wanting to look away, not wanting to let go. “The gods and the fates have not deemed it to be in my cards, in my thread and it is a life I have to live because in return for taking away my ability to read stationary words they gave me blood that glows with holy energy and crackles in ice. I think that is a fair enough trade, don’t you?”

"Why should you be at such a disadvantage?"

"Caleb, sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with me," Molly told him and was surprised when he meant it. "I am perfectly content with who I am and you should be too." 

Caleb didn’t speak, only looked down at his parchment with a downcast glare and gently slid his hands from Molly’s, which the tiefling reluctantly allowed. Standing, Molly patted Caleb softly on the back before making his way up the stairs and to his room

When Caleb returned from a shopping trip with another book in his hand, Molly thought nothing of it, until a few days later the two were on watch together and Caleb had shuffled closer to the fire (something very unusual for the wizard) and pulled out the new book. Before Molly could make any jokes about the human slacking off on his duties, Caleb began reading the pages out loud for Molly, weaving tales of warriors and mystery and magic with nothing but his words. Molly had barely stayed awake through his watch as he listened to his friend read in the glow of the firelight. Molly had made sure to thank Caleb in the morning for the wonderful dreams he had that night.

* * *

 They were running, and Molly didn’t know how long for but he was side by side with Beauregard running through tight corridors full of guards and traps and nothing but darkness, so Beau was forced to hold onto Molly’s coat as they ran.

“Where the fuck are they?” She huffed as she rearranged her footing. “This place is a god damn maze! What if we don’t find them?”

Molly pushed Beau's head down roughly with one hand as he saw a long jagged and rusty sword appear from the darkness and swing towards her neck. Molly parried it with his own sword and left a gash in undead swordsman's stomach with the other. “We can’t think like that dear. This place isn’t that big and as long as they haven’t been moved I’m sure we will find them.”

Beau gripped tightly to Molly’s sleeve when she felt it almost slip from her grasp. “And if we don’t?”

“Then I suppose we’re fucked.”

Pausing at a door, Molly brought his glowing sword up to examine the inscription and turned to Beau whose eyes were wide. “Read it!” He told her as he spun around to face the now empty hallway again, one sword held out in front of him.

Blinking, Beau leaned closer to the wall, so close her nose almost touched it before she scowled and pulled away. “It’s not in Common.”

Molly swapped places, took one look at the dancing letters and cursed. “It’s in Infernal.” He sighed angrily as he turned to fully face the hallway. “I’ll have to charm someone to open it.”

“Just read the fucking door!” Beau shouted in his ear and of course, Beau didn’t know because both Caleb and Fiord had kept his secret and now their friends' demise would be on his hands. “Just read the gods damned door! This might be the way!”

“Beau...” Molly warned, low and deadly as he backed her further up against the door, back to her and swords extended.

The monk was having none of it. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t know Infernal but you do. What the hell Molly? Just read the fucking-”

_“I can’t read!”_ Molly roared as he spun around and slammed a scimitar into the door hinge, breaking the metal into pieces and kicking the door open with his foot before storming through without waiting for Beau to follow but knowing she had when he felt a hesitant tug on his coat sleeve.

Everyone was safe when they found them behind bars and once they opened the door and unlocked their chains they all clambered out in a pile, nothing much worse than cuts and bruises, Yasha with a gash on her side, Fjord with blood on his chin, Caleb with a swollen and purple eye.

Beau came and found Molly at the bar, a glass of something sickly sweet and purple, tar-like on his tongue. “I’ll have what he’s having.” She muttered as she got the barkeeps attention, accepting the glass with a silent nod as Molly placed a gold on the table to pay for it. “So,” Beau started, turning to Molly. “You really can’t read? I thought that was just something you read about in like, stories.”

Molly took a long swig from his glass. “I’m glad you find me mysterious and handsome enough to place me in a story.”

“Can you just not read or is it something else?”

"There's nothing wrong with me, Beau, I just can't read."

"I mean, there are many things wrong with you, I just don't think that's one of them." Beau took a sip from her glass and made a face. "So are you going to answer my question or not?"

Sighing, Molly rolled his eyes.“I could do it if you helped me, or if you gave me time, but it gets worse when I’m drunk or tired or stressed and the longer it takes if just makes me frustrated and that honestly just makes it worse.”

Thinking for a moment, Beau attempted to swirl her glass, with no effect. “What do the words look like to you?” She asked.

Molly considered this, rubbing a hand through his hair. “They look like scribbles, but they move about and even my name in Common has the right letters in all the wrong places but I sort of know what it looks like.”

Beau nodded as she turned to face Molly. “Alright. Any other hidden secrets?”

“No, it’s just that.”

“ _Is_ it a secret?”

“It’s not really a secret, but I don’t think Nott and Jester know yet.”

Humming, Beau drowned her drink and left the bar. Molly convinced himself that the looks Beau gave him when he ordered one of everything on the menu without looking at it were looks of incredulous disbelief and not a secret shared between friends and if she quietly whispered words in Molly’s ears when he was struggling to read them, Molly make sure to send her a nod and a wink and shout her a drink.

* * *

 It was strange, sitting on a tall grassy hill filled with multi-coloured flowers that overlooked the wide expanse of blues and greens of the land, to have Nott of all people approach him and sit by him, plucking a flower and twirling it between her palms. “I know, by the way,” she said without preamble. “Just thought I would let you know so you could stop trying to hide it so much.”

Molly hummed as he looked up at the sky and watched the clouds float by, fluffy and white. “Know what? There are many things one could know about me and twice as many things I could be hiding. But you’re going to need to be more specific, dear, while I am sure you would call Jester to cast that horrid little spell on me again, I’m not a mind reader. Only a fortune teller.”

Nott looked as though she hadn’t listened to a word he said since he opened his mouth. “I know you can’t read.” She elaborated, reaching up to gently pick the petals of the flower before rubbing it between her fingers and dropping it to the ground.

“Ah,” Molly sighed, staring out into the distance. “Did Caleb tell you?”

“No, I overheard Fjord and Beau talking about it during their watch the other night,” Nott explained, a slight grin twisted her face. “They didn’t even know I was awake.” She looked at Molly out of the corner of her eye. “Is it true then?”

“Yes Nott, I believe it is.” Molly really didn’t want to explain it to another person, especially not to Nott, who seemed to go against everything he believed in and wanted for himself so far, so he had no reason to believe that she would listen and at least pretend to understand this time. “The words move.”

“I get it, you know.” When Molly looked at her, Nott was pointedly looking back at her flower, not devoid of half its petals. “I used to be like that when I was younger, way before they taught me, and even know when I get the itch it’s like I can’t understand the words I see until I have something special in my hands. Sometimes I need a drink, but sometimes it’s just the itch.”

Blinking, Molly looked confused at Nott. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not that hard to understand.” She waved a hand like it was no big deal, though it was something Molly had been trying to explain for the majority of his short life. “There were some people in my clan who were the same, but when they couldn’t be taught they were just kicked out and left to die.” Nott frowned. “There were some who got better, but most of the time it got worse. I don’t know what happened to them.” Reaching behind her, Nott pulled out her flask and took a large mouthful, tipping her head back and Molly watched the tiny rivulets run down the side of her mouth.

“That’s very… clever of you Nott.” Molly narrowed his eyes. “Although I get the feeling you didn’t just come over here to share your sympathy and tell stories of times gone by.”

“I think you should tell Jester.”

“You think I should _what_?” Molly asked in disbelief “Why would I ever feel myself compelled to do that?”

Nott met his eyes with the confident air of someone who had been thinking about this for a very long time. “Because she deserves to know, just like the rest of us.”

Sighing, Molly rubbed his face with his hands. The view was too pretty to have this conversation. “I know I probably should, but how would I start that conversation? ‘Hello dear, I may have been lying to you about my ability to read and because everyone else already knows I think it’s about time you do to’? That won’t do.”

“How did you tell everyone else?”

Holing up his hand, Molly counted on his fingers. “I asked Yasha how to spell my name back at the circus, Fjord had to read a sign to me and I drunkenly told him, Caleb tried to entertain me by getting me to read one of his books, Beau was yelling at me to read a sign in that dungeon we found you all in and apparently you know because Fjord and Beau were talking about it? What did they say?”

Waving the last part of the statement off, Nott gingerly took one of Molly’s hand in hers, almost afraid that his claws would cut her and her nails would cut _him_ in return. “I think it’s better if she found out from you willingly, from your own voice than if she overheard it or if a situation calls for it.” Her voice was gentle, calming, and Molly felt himself relaxing under her touch. “I think that would make her feel better about being the last one to find out.”

Molly sighed, looked back over the landscape. It was getting dark, the light slowly but steadily disappearing behind the mountains. He gave Nott’s hand a squeeze. “I suppose your right.” He stood, pulling Nott to her feet as well. “I’ll get around to it. Wouldn’t want her to feel left out.”

Nott's hand tightened around Molly's when he tried to pull it out and when he looked down at her, she met his gaze. "There is nothing wrong with you, Molly." Her voice was firm, brokering no room for arguments. "I just want you to know that. No matter what you or anyone else may think, _there is nothing wrong with you_."

Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Molly smiled at the tiny goblin. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a rather motherly creature?" He nodded back to the campsite. "We better get back, otherwise Caleb will come looking for you and Jester will feel cheated out of the fortune I promised her."

And when Nott shot him encouraging smiles and nods when he glanced at her as he was pretending to quietly read, he smiled back and made sure to buy her something shiny and expensive at the next town.

* * *

Zadash was quiet this time of the day, no loud parades or drunken fools roaming the streets, not too many guards on patrol, the sun rising from the crest of the hills and the rainbow streamers still tied around poles from the week before. Jester was sitting on a bench in the sun a few feet from the bakery, the warm smells of honey and cinnamon and pastry wafting through the constantly opening door. There was some sweet spelling ball of dough in her hands and when Molly sat down on the bench beside her, she beamed at him. “Hello, Molly!”

“Hello there my dear Jester,” He pulled her head closer to his and kissed her between her horns. “What are you eating?”

“I’m not sure, but it had jam and cinnamon and chocolate and it reminded me of Nicodranas so I brought it.”  She held it out to him and a glob of jam rolled down the side at the sudden movement. “Would you like to try some?”

“No thanks love,” he declined, throwing his arm around the back of the chair. “I was thinking we could go to that candy shop you were talking about before. We never did get to go before the tower blew up.”

Jester’s eyes widened and Molly was momentarily afraid that she would drop her pastry. “Yes yes yes! I forgot, we were supposed to go because you’ve never actually been to one have you? They are so pretty and so colourful-” she gasped, tugging at Molly’s coat with sticky fingers “-just like you Molly!”

Smiling at the compliment, Molly met her eyes. “Then I am sure I will love it. Anything that is even remotely like me is going to be amazing, isn’t it?”

They sat together in comfortable silence, the only sounds were the jangling of Molly’s horns in the wind, the crunch of Jester’s pastry when she bit into it and the gentle swishing of their tails against the floor. Oh, how Molly hated to break it. “I actually came to find you because I had something to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Jester asked as she whipped her hand against her mouth, cleaning away the jam and powdered sugar “What’s that?”

“Uh, I don’t want you to be upset when I tell you though, alright?” Molly really didn’t know what to say, but there was no way he could turn back now. “The rest of the party already knows so you don’t have to keep it secret but I think you should know anyway.”

Jesters face morphed into something serious, a look that was never associated with the blue tiefling, but she turned to Molly was an unreadable look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I uh, I can’t actually read…” Molly admitted, cringing away from the perplexed look on Jesters face. “Its not a bad thing, not really, but I just wanted to let you know in case it ever came up-”

Molly paused, watching Jester’s face for any emotion he was expecting (disgust, disappointment, pity) but saw none of them, only a blank calmness that was not fitting for someone so excitable as Jester. Like the changing of a tide, a large grin spread across her face and she wrapped her hands around Molly, taking him by surprise.

“Oh, Mollymauk!” She cried, love in her voice that Molly was not expecting. “Don’t worry! I still love you!”

Blinking, Molly felt a smile spread across his face. “Is there a possibility that you wouldn't have?”

"I mean, maybe if there was something, really, really wrong with you, maybe not. Until I found a way to fix it, then I would love you twice as much!"

"Oh don't worry my sweet, there's nothing wrong with me."

Returning the smile, Jester punched him her version of gently in the arm and turned back to her pastries.

Later, he noticed when she slid up next to him and read him her letters to the Traveller or grinned at him when he read words correctly or gave him dramatic enactments while she was reading Tusk Love to him or if she read to him the stories she wrote about the people they watched pass by, and he loved her all the more for it.

* * *

Molly wasn’t even sure how they got here, wasn’t sure of anything since the ambush and the bag over his head and the cold heavy manacles on his wrists before he was shoved into the back of a cart with bodies that seemed to be in a similar situation and the angry battle cries seemed to be a match for those of the Mighty Nein.

But here he was, on his ass in the dirt and his friends behind him in cages. A grey-haired half-orc wouldn’t stop calling him “Lucian” and a half-elf called him “Nonagon”, and frankly, Molly was rather sick of this dream

Beau was calling to him, talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her- too focused on the gnome with the knife who sliced shallow cuts into the eyes dyed permanently in his skin and letting it run into a chalice, raising it to his lips and drinking from it before passing it to the next person and filling up another one.

When thunder cracked from somewhere in the distance, loud and angry, and Molly resisted the urge to turn back to Yasha and reassure her that it was all going to be alright. She’d been put in a separate cage, her sword taken from her and gagged, and now she sat with no sound but pants from her previous rage, her legs crossed, fuming silent fury and watching every move near Molly like she could suddenly break her bonds and save him.

“I am awfully flattered you lot, but I don’t think you have the right tiefling,” Molly said weakly, lightheaded already. “Although whoever it is, is a very lucky guy.” Caleb was muttering in his cage and Molly thought it was such a shame that these goons had thought ahead and had made the cages wizard-proof. “So if you could let us all go I am sure we can go on our way and you can find your “Lucian” and we can pretend this never happened.”

A human crouched down to face Molly, blind in one eye, a large cut running through it and Molly tried to ignore that all these people had scars like his own. “We want the knowledge, Lucian.” The man growled in Molly’s face. “We want the secrets of immortality and don’t you dare pretend we won’t do whatever we have to in order to get them from you.”

Gulping, Molly eyed a halfling who arrived with bandages and slowly and methodically wrapped them around Molly’s bleeding skin. “Let me assure you that those will not be found in me. I am a man of many secrets but immortality is not one, otherwise, I would not be afraid of dying by your hand”

The man smirked and a gem was shoved into Molly’s forehead and blindingly cold pain shook through his mind. He knew subconsciously that he was screaming, if only for Yasha’s muffled roars of fury, Beau slamming her hand into the bars, Nott’s frantic chatter, Caleb’s sharp intake of breath, Fjord’s begging to _just_ talk _this out,_ Jester calling his name like she was drowning and the rough-roar pain in his throat. “What the fuck was that for?” Molly panted, blinking his eyes from the film of pain.

A book was shoved in his face. “Read it,” Came a smooth female voice, accent same as Caleb's and Molly tried to get a good look at her face, the book preventing it. When Molly dragged his eyes to the pages, the words swirled and shook like always.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Molly snarled, suddenly very angry, but not knowing where the anger came from because in the pit of his stomach all he could feel was fear. “I can’t fucking read, so you’re gonna have to find another way, _arschloch_ ” Molly watched the woman flinch at her native language, heard Caleb’s whispered praise at the same.

Before he could feel pleased with himself, another, thicker book was shoved into his face. Molly took one look at the words before glaring at the woman. “What part of _‘I can’t fucking read’_ don’t you understand? It’s not going to change page by page you know.”

The woman turned to the man from before, muttering something in a language Molly couldn’t identify before the man came back into his view, a third book retrieved. “We know all about your little problem, Lucian,” The man sounded smug, like he knew something Molly didn’t. “Maybe it’s not that you can’t read. Maybe you’re not just reading the right language.”

“Now, I think that’s enough,” Fjord calls from his cage, and Molly could hear the strained politeness and patience in his voice. “Don’t believe ‘em, Molly, they’re trying to bait you.”

_They already have_ he doesn’t say as he meets the eye of the man holding the book, saw the piercing determination glinting behind them. “What are you talking about?”

The book was spread open and gold-inked letters were revealed, just as Molly was about to shut the man down again, tell him the same story, he looked at the letters and they _moved_. But they didn’t move around the page and the words didn’t get jumbled up, but they moved in glowing synchronization into a correct order that Molly could _read_ , but it wasn’t a language that Molly knew but the words came to him as fast as the flipping of his cards and he let out an involuntary intake of breath at the sight.

“Read it,” the man breathed, deep satisfaction in his voice and so overwhelmed with the sensation of joy and disbelief and pride in himself that Molly _did_.

_“I pledge allegiance to the Nonagon, the guardian over life and death everlasting-”_

Someone was calling his name, maybe Caleb, maybe Fjord but Molly couldn’t hear them, too overjoyed with words fitting in the right places and the feeling of them sliding off his tongue.

_“I sacrifice my soul, my life, my death, to the lord-”_

Jester was crying, but Molly couldn’t hear her. Why was she crying? This was a good thing, a very very good thing.

_“I allow my body to be taken, and my soul to be accepted into the heavens to be used as the vessel of the lord-”_

His voice was too loud in his own ears, almost like it had an echo. He could faintly hear Yasha thrashing against her bonds, the bars, but it was too far away and quiet to matter.

_“I give through me, through you, my blood to be drunk and my bones to be crushed to bring about the change of the red-eyed god-”_

Caleb was muttering in Zemnian, throwing spell after spell at a wall that his magic would not pass through and cursing when they dissipated harmlessly.

_“Through you, my lord, I give about your disciples the ability to experience life ever-lasting, to control the extension of their fate and to choose the time of their own demise-”_

He felt weightless, no feeling but from the contentedness of the circumstance and the fuzzy feeling of reading. Actually, everything was kind of fuzzy, the world outside the book shook and blurred into a something not quite right, except for the words, still in their glowing gold light.

_“I grant them the power to bring about change and to become your vessel in their time, Lord Nonagon, as I have and they shall serve you as diligently as I-”_

Molly wasn’t even aware of his own words, the fuzziness in his eyes clouding over his hearing into a slight buzz. Beau and Fjord shook the bars and called out to him, but he was deaf to their wishes.

_“And hope that in time, they shall live and die as I have, serving you and continuing your quest throughout the land, and hope that when their time will come they-”_

Something hard hit Molly on the back of his head and he slouched forward, his eyes closing and his mouth falling shut. The man holding the book only had enough time to look up and the that the goblin had slipped through the bars and was plunging a dagger into his skull at the same time Yasha threw her door open, silently picked by Nott beforehand, ripping apart the other cage door, rushing towards Molly and dragging him far away from the fray.

When Molly blinked his tired eyes open the next morning, buried in Jester’s customary pile of pillows, his head thumping and his body numb, he was left with the sweet blissful feeling of his first time reading. There was a book on his bedside table, familiar, almost as though it were placed there porously by the wizard who purchased it and Molly reached for it with hands trembling both in body-aching exhaustion and barely concealed anticipation.

The words on the cover were unfamiliar to his eye, twirling and shifting as usual, but not how they had last night, they didn’t form tangible words that made any sense but only formed meaningless nothings, a bundle of nonsense and in his sudden frustration he hurled the book at the door and growled into his pillow.

Trying to explain it to the rest of the Nein was like a punch to the gut, the heart-wrenching feeling of his eyes no longer gliding effortlessly across the paper, of the words read falling off of his tongue, the relief of the letters fitting where they were supposed to.

For the rest of the week, Molly kept glancing at signs he would once have ignored, looked through books, at menus, at the words written on his tarot cards, searching for that unknown language that would make all the words fit together and sing in his head like the sweet tones of young Toya back at the carnival, but none were found.

And when the Mighty Nein shot him looks of sympathy, small smiles of reassurance and gave him soft pats on the back when he caught him listlessly staring at words, it meant nothing to Molly.

He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy when there was nothing wrong with him.

**Author's Note:**

> In Percy Jackson (for those who don't know) the demigods can't read because they have dyslexia and their brains are "hardwired for Ancient Greek" so I tried to do the same for Molly's dyslexia. Also, the thing Molly recited from the book? Totally made up, I'm sorry it's so bad but I really don't know how to do those sorta things but I tried.


End file.
